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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23265247">you can bloom again</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphictomaz/pseuds/sapphictomaz'>sapphictomaz</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The 100 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Implied/Referenced Torture, Praimfaya | Radiation Wave, Strangers to Lovers, canonverse, some graphic description</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:48:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,639</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23265247</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphictomaz/pseuds/sapphictomaz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Harper's always been a survivor.</p><p>She's survived an orphaned childhood, kidnapping, and torture. When a wave of fire stretches across the sky, she knows that she'll survive this, too - but when she meets a girl with a smile brighter than the sun, Harper wonders if surviving alone is what she really wants.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clarke Griffin/Harper McIntyre</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>TROPED: Madness 1.0</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>you can bloom again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>CHOPPED MADNESS: ROUND ONE</p><p>Character: Harper McIntyre<br/>Theme: Angst<br/>Trope #1: Road Trip AU<br/>Trope #2: Strangers-to-lovers</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Harper’s always been a survivor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s what her mother had told her, at least, after her father had died from a disease that had stripped away his mind and soul until he was unrecognizable. “You’re a survivor,” she’d said, as she placed a delicate hand on the body bag, waiting for the body to be thrown out into space. “You’ll survive this, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harper had thought she’d known what that meant, until she went home the next day to a room of broken belongings and bottles and found out that her mother had stolen one of the last escape pods and taken it down to the earth, for what everyone could assume was a slow and painful death. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’ll survive this, too </span>
  </em>
  <span>- her mother’s last words rang in her ears for days to come, not as a consolation like she’d thought they’d be, but as a warning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A warning, maybe, about the secret she’d been harbouring all her life. As she slowly picked up the glass from the floor, a small piece broke her skin and black blood trickled to the floor, mixing with her tears. Black blood - something never before seen on the Ark. There were no records of it. She was sure it was an obvious sign of a genetic impurity, and if the officials knew, they’d throw her out the airlock faster than they did her father’s dead body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, she was a survivor, even when she was locked up for stealing more than her allotted ration. As a young orphan, there was nowhere for her to go and no way for her to contribute - locking her away made her easier for the Ark to deal with. Sometimes, when she was allowed with the others in lockup, she talked to Monroe, or Monty and Jasper, but most of the time, she sat alone in her cell with her knees drawn into her chest, and she waited for it all to be over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she’s learned anything from her mother, it’ll all be over eventually. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she’s learned anything from her mother, it’s that she should have been scared when the Ark sent them hurtling down to a wasteland planet. She should have been absolutely terrified, because this may as well be a symbol for death itself and despite popular opinion, she’d never been that good at surviving, anyways. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet - deep down, Harper can’t bring herself to care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she had, maybe she wouldn’t have ventured into the woods alone on the very first day. She might not have kept walking as far away from the dropship as she could, and she might have entertained the thought that maybe she could help the others and make a real difference, but this never crosses her mind. Harper’s been keeping a secret in isolation for a very long time, and she won’t stop now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harper is a survivor. She knows best how to do this alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t make it nearly as far as she wants to before she’s grabbed from behind and pulled to the ground, hard. Her head hits something hard on the way down, blurring her vision, but she thinks she sees a face above her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you?” the person asks, pinning her down. “Where did you come from?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t answer, and instead gives into the darkness. It’s always been kinder. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Harper wakes, she’s in a cage. It doesn’t feel all that different than the life she’s gotten used to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s someone else there, waiting for her, and as soon as they catch sight of her open eyes they approach. Her limbs aren’t responding the way she wants them to, but she manages to scramble away until her back is against the edge of the cage and there’s nowhere further for her to go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The figure lears down at her menacingly, and somewhere in her mind Harper knows that she should be scared, but just like her entire life, she can’t bring herself to care. Her parents left her, the Ark didn’t want her - none of it matters. None of it ever has, and none of it ever will. She’ll probably find her death right here in a wooden cage, surrounded by people who have lived on Earth despite it being a nuclear wasteland, and nobody will ever know, and nobody will ever care, and that’s how it has always been destined to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her captor says something to her, but the words don’t make sense. The next sentence she deciphers, though - “Nightblood,” he says, “are you a Commander of the sky?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nevermind. This isn’t making that much sense, either. “No?” she whispers, her voice shaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your people are on our land,” he continues. She’s keenly aware of the knife he slowly draws. “What are you hoping to gain by attacking us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just shakes his head. “Nightblood would be such a precious thing to waste.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It turns out that he doesn’t care all that much - they spill lots of it, over a very long period of time. Sometimes, through a haze, Harper sees others being dragged in and out of cages close by, but she never leaves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>These people, whoever they are, learn pretty quickly that Harper’s blood is unique amidst those from the Ark - even if this means nothing to her, it clearly means something to them. She catches bits and pieces of conversations, when she can, and learns that they’re keeping her there just in case she </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a Commander. Through her tears, she screams at them that she’s not, that she doesn’t know what this means, but they don’t ever listen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, they leave her alone for days at a time. Sometimes, they tear her fingernails off for their own amusement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They keep her fed, and keep her healthy enough to withstand another round of torture whenever one of them attempts to get information. They keep her there, even when they learn she truly doesn’t have anything of note worth telling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once again, Harper’s condemned because of what runs through her veins. At night, she takes to curling into the corner and sobbing herself to sleep, because it’s the only way to quiet her tormented mind. She likes to think she’s a strong person, having overcome everything she has, but she knows everyone has a breaking point. She thinks that she’s probably reached hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so tired of fighting,” she whispers, to absolutely nobody but herself. The sentiment still rings true. Days turn into weeks, and each day she’s sure she won’t live to the next, and each day she’s cruelly proven wrong.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>They don’t open the door - not even when fire races through the sky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Many days before, all the people who lived in this area had vanished. They’d left her alone in the cage, with barely enough food to last, and hadn’t looked back. She’d been sure she was going to die alone of starvation long before anyone came back, until she looked into the horizon and saw it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A wave of what looks to her like real flames rushes towards them, decimating everything in its path. She can feel the heat even from a distance. The entire world is falling to its knees as it approaches, meeting this wave with nothing but utter defeat. It’s like nothing she’s ever seen before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t see much of it at all for long, before a blazing fire crashes into her and takes hold deep within her skin. It absolutely burns like nothing ever has before, and she screams, even when the cries of those around her have long since gone silent. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’ll survive this, too</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the ghost of her mother tells her, but Harper doesn’t stay aware long enough to find out. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>She dreams of her life </span>
  <em>
    <span>before</span>
  </em>
  <span>, when she had a family and a home, and even if she had to keep a secret from everyone else she knew what it meant to be happy. When she wakes, she’s alone once again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her body shakes with strain as she sits up. There are lesions all up and down her skin, each one of them roaring with pain. Her hair is twisted and broken around her neck but she can’t lift her arms to move it, and her clothes are in tatters, mostly burned away. Looking around is a strain, but with hazy eyes she examines the clearing to find it completely empty. All the trees that were once here are gone, the grass and the greenery vanished to the flames.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is still in a cage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harper has no idea what happened, or why the Earth burned itself to death, but she’s lived through it - </span>
  <em>
    <span>somehow</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She should not be alive. Yet, as she thinks this over, she doesn’t feel any despair about it; she feels only a resounding anger, pounding deep within her chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>None of this is fair. Nothing that has happened to her is fair, and she’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>enraged</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a howl, she kicks out, her foot colliding with the door of the cage. It crumbles upon impact. Whatever it was that was holding it together breaks, and the pieces fall out all around her. She hasn’t moved from that spot, but for the first time in years, Harper takes a deep breath in and feels a fleeting sense of freedom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stands on shaking legs, feeling her body resist with every movement. Still, she presses onwards, taking a tentative step forwards and then following it with another. She grits her teeth but moves forwards still. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, she finds a small cabin, probably used by the people who had kept her captive. It looks like it has been spared from most of the impact by what were probably trees on the one side, blocking the fire from reaching it, and leaving it mostly intact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside, she finds a pair of clothes that, while being oversized, fit her well enough, and a large container of water that she gulps down greedily. It’s not enough, though - she knows she needs food and water, and she isn’t going to find more of that here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can’t afford to waste time, not now, so she walks back out of the cabin, not sure on exactly where she’s going to go next. As it turns out, she doesn’t have to look far. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An approaching rumbling sound signals the person’s approach. Briefly, Harper thinks she should hide, but there’s no point to do so. In the distance, she can see something approaching, but she can’t make out what it is. Caution put aside, she holds an aching arm up and waves to get their attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The object is still unfamiliar once it gets close enough she can see it, but distantly, she remembers hearing about things like this back in her classes on the Ark. It’s called a </span>
  <em>
    <span>car</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she’s pretty certain, a mechanism used to travel great distances over land. The one that’s coming up next to her is a land rover, built by the people on the Ark should they ever come down to the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most importantly, inside the rover is a person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rover pulls to a stop right in front of her, and slowly, the person driving it steps out and takes a step towards her, pure shock on her face. She looks around the same age as Harper, but her hair is blonder and her eyes are more striking. She, too, has lingering burns on her face and skin, but she looks to mostly be in better condition. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” the stranger says, softly. “My name is Clarke. Who are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She notes the hesitant way that Clarke is approaching her, and finds it almost funny that she’s somehow gotten the upper hand in this interaction. “Harper,” she says, her voice weaker than she’d like it to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clarke lets out a short breath, not even attempting to hide the smile on her face. “I’m sorry,” she says, “I just - I was so sure I was alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shared feeling of joy washes over Harper, a feeling so alien to her that she doesn’t know what to do with it. “Me, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She seems to catch sight of Harper’s health and quickly opens the rover door, rifling through its belongings and then holding out a flask. “Water,” Clarke says. “It’s not much, but I found some.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harper accepts it gratefully, taking a careful sip. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clarke nods, but then her brow furrows, some kind of storm overtaking her thoughts. “Where have you been all this time?” she asks. “What clan are you from? Not that it matters anymore, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The meaning of the words is lost on her. “I’ve been here,” she replies, gesturing behind her to the area where the cages had once been. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clarke’s not appeased. “This is Trikru territory, I thought,” she says. “Were you not sent to Polis? Or - are you like Luna? Did you run from the Conclave?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rage she felt before starts beating in her heart again. It always seems to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> that’s left behind, that has no concept of what’s going on or why anything happens the way it does. “I don’t know what that means,” she says tensely, wanting to stop the rapid array of questions, but not wanting to make an enemy out of the first friendly face she’s seen in what might be years. “I came from the Ark. I was sent down with ninety-nine other kids to see if the ground was survivable. Before a day had passed, I was taken by some other people, who I guess were living down here the whole time, and I haven’t left since.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clarke’s eyes are growing wider and wider with every word. “You were part of the hundred?” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harper - I was, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harper takes a step back out of shock. “I’ve never met you before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Clarke says, “I’ve never met you, either. But I was sent down with the hundred, too. I’m sorry, we - we lost a lot of people. We didn’t know anyone was gone that early on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She ignores the twisting despair in her chest, knowing that her imprisonment has always been nobody’s fault but her own. “It’s okay,” she says, “I survived.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah - about that,” Clarke cuts in, “I have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot </span>
  </em>
  <span>of questions for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harper laughs, a genuine laugh, something she hasn’t done since before she can remember. It feels good - it makes her feel light. She decides that she likes feeling this way. “Are you kidding? </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> the one with questions. I’ve been in a cage for months.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clarke smiles widely, eyes moving to the ground for only a second before she looks back up and focuses her stare on Harper. “Why don’t you come with me?” she says, gesturing to the rover sitting behind her. “I’m going somewhere we can be safe, with lots of people. We can talk on the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s only two options here. She could stay out here alone and fend for herself, as she’s always done and knows how to do, or she could take a chance on a kind stranger with one of the brightest, warmest smiles Harper has ever had the pleasure of seeing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, okay,” she says, “but you’re going to have to drive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clarke laughs, and then slides into the driver’s seat. Harper’s not far behind, pulling the door shut behind her, taking a moment to stare wondrously at the machine all around her. “How fast does this thing go?” she asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a mischievous grin, Clarke hits the pedal. “Why don’t we find out?”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>As they drive, Clarke tells her everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tells her that the people who took her captive survived the nuclear apocalypse on Earth, and formed their own culture in the time that had since passed. The others from the Ark had called them ‘Grounders,’ to which Harper chimed in with, “Creative.” At the beginning, they had captured a few others from the sky, but Harper never saw any of them. In those early days, she hadn’t been aware of much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She learns that the entire Ark did come down, and while it wasn’t easy, they managed to broker a form of peace - but then, after facing both men in mountains and brainwashing computers, they learned of a second radiation wave that was headed their way - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Praimfaya.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was the wave of fire?” Harper asks, her body still aching at the thought. She notices, though, that the longer she’s aware, the more that the lesions and burns on her body begin to heal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Clarke answers with a sigh. “There’s a bunker - almost everybody left is down there, safe from the radiation. There are six people up in space, on the remaining ring from the Ark. And then there’s us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And we’re fine,” Harper says, “because...because we have black blood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nightblood, yeah,” Clarke says. “It keeps us safe from the radiation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harper stays silent for a moment, thinking of how her entire life, she’s kept this a secret from everyone. It’s almost funny to her that the very thing she spent so long being ashamed of is the thing that saved her life, in the end. “I always thought it was a bad thing,” she says, speaking out loud before she means to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t look at her, but she can feel the way that Clarke looks at her sadly. Before, this would have made her angry - she’s never gotten anywhere by asking for the sympathy of others. It’s different, though, when it comes from Clarke. Rather than pity, it feels like solidarity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s pretty amazing that you have it at all,” Clarke says. “I don’t know of anyone else from the Ark who does. The gene might have skipped countless generations in your family, or it occurred naturally somehow. Either way, that’s pretty special.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Special,” Harper echoes, and for the first time in her life, it doesn’t feel like a bad thing. She blames the tears in her eyes on the burns on her arms, but even those are fading.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stop several times along the way for places where they think there may be food, and almost all of these times, they’re unlucky. “It’s going to come down to the bugs on the windshield,” Harper sighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s - not actually a bad idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, please don’t say that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Regardless, they continue as quickly as they can, since they know the bunker will have supplies for them. They try not to stop again, until they round a corner and pass a large hill on their right. The area around them is desolate and ripped to pieces by Praimfaya, but the hill is large and majestic ever the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop for a second,” Harper says, overcome with a feeling she can’t quite name. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you see?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just - please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clarke’s kind enough to do so without asking anymore questions. Before the rover’s even rumbled to a full stop, Harper throws the door open and hops out, a rejuvenated energy filling her feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she can stop herself, she’s running. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hill is coated with loose dirt and rocks that makes it hard for her to find her footing, but nevertheless, upwards she climbs. At one point, she’s almost on all fours, racing up as fast as she can and using her hands to steady herself. Her heart is pounding in her ears. Adrenaline is coursing through her dark veins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harper makes it to the top, and she screams.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun is beating down on her and the air hangs heavy, but she throws her arms in the air and </span>
  <em>
    <span>screams</span>
  </em>
  <span> with everything she has. The rage that once found a home in her chest flies out, coupled with the anxiety and fear she’s felt since before she knew what the words meant. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’ll survive this, too</span>
  </em>
  <span>, her mother once said to her, so here she is - surviving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scream dies and she stumbles backwards, gasping in air and </span>
  <em>
    <span>laughing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She raises her head to the sky and laughs, feeling the true freedom that is felt from being alive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she looks back, she sees Clarke leaning against the rover, arms across her chest, that absolute, wonderful, radiant smile on her face. “Come on!” Harper yells back. “The view’s great!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not, really, all that great - all she can see is wasteland, for miles and miles. Still - it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> wasteland, and for that, it is beautiful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clarke’s at her side in a flash, and with a hesitant laugh, she lets out a scream, too. “That felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she gasps, afterwards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Harper agrees. She can’t help but try to match Clarke’s smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re alive,” Clarke says. At first, she’s staring off into the horizon, but as the seconds pass she turns and looks directly at Harper. “We’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can almost feel the way her eyes sparkle with joy. “I know.” On a whim, she reaches out and grabs Clarke’s hand, and the two of them laugh again, together. With a cheer, they turn and race down the mountain, holding onto each other tightly as they descend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Harper says, once they’ve settled back into the rover and began their journey again. “I really needed that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clarke nods, her mind clearly working a thousand miles a second. “Yeah - I think I did, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>They get to the ruins of Polis before nightfall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rubble blocks the roads, so they have to leave the rover a little ways away from where Clarke said the bunker would be. It’s all in ruins around her, but Harper can’t help but wonder about what it must have been like to live in an actual bustling city on the ground. It’s the kind of thing she read about in storybooks, and she wishes she could have gotten a chance to experience it for herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, though, as it lies in pieces around her feet - it’s just wasted potential.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” Clarke says, “we’re almost there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harper can’t stop the anxiety she feels as she follows her over broken ground and heaps of fallen stone. What will it be like to suddenly be surrounded by people in close confinement? While she likes the idea of finally being a part of something bigger than herself, something that matters, there’s something about living underground that bothers her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They make it over one final pile before Clarke stops abruptly, staring straight in front of her at another pile of rubble, this one larger than the rest. “What is it?” Harper asks, coming to a stop beside her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re here,” Clarke whispers, immediately taking in a sharp, shaky breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harper looks forwards once more, scanning the rubble in front of her. “You don’t mean-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s underneath,” Clarke continues, nodding and squaring her shoulders. “But there’s two of us. We can dig this up - we </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to. Come on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a formidable strength that Harper could only ever hope to have, Clarke races forwards, dropping to her hands and knees and crawling up the pile. She pulls at loose pieces of the mess and begins throwing it behind her in a desperate attempt to clear it. Harper approaches slowly, but she too begins pulling at the pile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s fairly obvious to her that there are too many pieces that are too heavy and too stuck in place for them to move, but Clarke’s nothing if not inspirational, so she continues. For a while, they work in silence, until Harper notices that she’s the only one moving anything, so she looks up to see what’s happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clarke’s still on her knees, her head bowed and her body shaking ever so slightly. In her hands, she’s got - a stick? “Hey,” Harper says, “it’s okay. We have time; we can keep going at this.” She’s got no idea why she’s trying so hard to convince Clarke they can do it when she knows they can’t, and when she’s pretty sure she doesn’t even want to go into a bunker of any kind, but also - she thinks she knows exactly why. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Clarke whispers, “this - it’s the throne.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This means absolutely nothing to Harper. The stick is polished enough, but it’s still just that to her - a stick. “I’m sorry,” she says. No other words seem to be coming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t going to work!” Clarke cries, very suddenly, throwing a fist down into the rubble in anger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clarke - stop!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She screams, but it’s not like before - this time, it’s a low, angry scream, full of hurt and pain. Tears spring to Harper’s eyes as she hears it, watching Clarke pound the rubble beneath them in anger once more. “You’re going to hurt yourself!” Harper yells, but it’s as if Clarke can’t even hear her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she continues, rising to her feet and slowly approaching her, very aware of the rubble that shifts underneath her with every step. With care, she sinks to Clarke’s level once she’s right in front of her, catching her fist in her hand as Clarke brings it down once more. The impact hurts, but she doesn’t mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t do this,” Clarke whispers, her body wracked by silent sobs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not anymore,” she gasps, between sobs so violent they wrack her entire body. “Not after </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harper’s heart aches with her, and she does nothing but pull her close, wrapping her arms around Clarke and holding her tightly, doing everything she can to still her shaking form. “It’s okay,” she whispers in her ear, for once, believing that it might be true. “We can make this be okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence, and then - “How?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because,” Harper says, a deep, resounding sense of understanding in her heart, “you’re a survivor, Clarke. You will survive this, too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time since she heard the words said to her, she thinks she finally knows what they mean. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, Clarke does still, and when the tears stop, she looks up at Harper with glassy eyes. “You really think we’ll be okay out here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” Harper says, immediately. “I really, really do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clarke nods, but she doesn’t attempt to move out of Harper’s arms. “Okay,” she agrees. “Let’s do it, then. Let’s survive.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Harper sits in the open back of the rover, legs dangling off the edge as she stares up at the brilliant blue sky. The water in the lake shines in the light, the trees and the grass are radiant, and the valley has truly never seen a better day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d found it by total luck, after leaving the rubble of Polis behind them on that day. The valley had been saved from the worst of Praimfaya, and though it was abandoned, they’d very quickly make it home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>been</span>
  </em>
  <span> home, now, for almost six years. Harper had never known what it meant to belong somewhere, but now, she most definitely does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Off in the distance, she sees Clarke making her way back, a net of fish lazily hanging off her shoulder. With a gleeful smile, Harper jumps on the ground and runs to meet her, the two sharing a soft kiss as they meet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning,” Clarke says, smiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning,” Harper echoes, and then, “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clarke’s eyes soften. “I love you, too. You know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah - but it’s nice to hear it, sometimes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She just laughs, holding out her hand and smiling again when Harper takes it eagerly. “Come on,” she says, “I’ve got fish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harper allows Clarke to lead the way back to their home, holding her head up and letting the warm air wash over her. One day, the people on the ring might come back, or the bunker might be unearthed, but for now, it’s just her and Clarke - and she’s more than alright with that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s always been a survivor - now, in a true moment of peace, she knows that it was all worth it. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! Please check out the other fics in the Chopped collection and give them some love, if you'd like.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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